Wily E Coyoyte
by Trishata96
Summary: What was never seen in Origins was Zevran's three previous attempts on the Warden's lives. And there's a perfectly good reason for why Zev never mentioned them.


**Wily E Coyote  
**

**Summary: ****What was never seen in Origins was Zevran's three previous attempts on the Warden's lives. And there's a perfectly good reason for why Zev never mentioned them.**

* * *

**Attempt 1:**

Zevran watched his targets from across the marketplace in Denerim. Two wardens, a apostate and a Mabari hound. The dog and mage didn't concern him. It was the two wardens he was after. The leader, a quite beautiful elven archer who seemed to be born for wearing that lovely chain mail, was talking with the chanter and receiving a reward. The other warden, a quite handsome but rugged human male was playing with the Mabari. The mage was leaning against the well, her barely covered back to him.

_Ahh, this is too easy. All the brothers and sisters are inside, along with the templars. Look, that archivist is going inside. Now is my chance. I'd say quickly slit their throats and run._

Zevran chuckled at the task at hand. What would his employers think, when they realised the wardens had been in Denerim? Right underneath their noses too. He quickly shrunk into the shadows as the elf turned to face the mage.

"You ready Morrigan? Oh Drake. Don't get slobber all over Alistair." The warden tutted as 'Drake' had pounced on 'Alistair' and was now licking his face. The man shoved the hound off, quickly grabbing a dry rag and wiping his face. The ever so beautiful Morrigan chuckled and picked up her staff leaning against the well. As they began to leave, Zevran quickly snuck up on the mage, dagger glinting in the sunlight.

_Change of plan. Killing the mage will make this easier._

But as he did so, Morrigan swung her staff as she put it on her back. The staff, which was made completely made out of steel, whacked the unfortunate assassin in the face. He stumbled back and his lower half connected with the well.

Alistair turned around suddenly and eyed the well suspiciously. Did he just hear a splash and a scream? Tinalla called to him, saying if he couldn't keep up then she'd feed his cheese supply to Drake. That got the former Templar moving.

From the bottom of the well, Zevran surfaced spluttering.

"Braska!" He swore loudly.

_Well, this is embarrassing._

"Err…Hello? Anybody? I seem to have fallen down this well. Hello? Anybody there?" Then he noticed he had company. "Oh, hello Mr. Corpse. How are you this fine day?"

* * *

**Attempt 2:**

From the branches of the tree, Zevran watched the camp. Morrigan had her lean to completely separate. He examined the camp's occupants. There was the two wardens, the Mabari, as expected. But there where several others. A circle healer, a Qunari and a former chantry sister. Getting the wardens would be a lot more difficult.

_Perhaps poisoning the meal will solve that. The challenge will be getting to the cooking pot._

The cooking pot happened to be right in the middle of the camp and Alistair was right next to it with the warden curled up next to him. Zevran watched with delight as Alistair's hand slipped to the small of the elf's back. The elven warden was apparently called Tinalla.

_Ahh, fraternizing within the ranks. Tut, tut, tut. But this makes the viewing all the more pleasant. Maybe I should wait until they 'sing in their tent'. _

Tinalla giggled and nuzzled Alistair's neck, whispering something. Then she got up and walked away, those hips swaying in lovely rhythm. The other Warden watched, somewhat mesmerized and eyes glazing over. And as if by sheer luck, the circle healer called Alistair over. Zevran glanced around the camp. The bard was pestering the Qunari. Now was his chance.

He managed to get to and back from the cooking pot, without even being seen. In his opinion, the poison was a bit over the top. The stew seemed to just be a uniform grey mush, that would've killed a great deal of Orlaisians. Tinalla went over to the stew and sniffed it, the elf rolled her eyes and yelled:

"Ali, I thought you said you wouldn't serve lamb and pea stew again."

_Wait? That was meant to be lamb and pea stew? Dear Maker, his cooking skills are unsalvageable. I hope his lovemaking isn't as bad._

"It's the only thing I can cook without burning. Not my fault everyone insists on me cooking." Came a whiny reply. The elf groaned and grabbed the pot with a thick cloth. She strode up to the bushes and emptied it.

"Right that's it. Alistair is no longer cooking. Everyone else takes turns from now on. Any complaints, I'll have Alistair serve that bleeding stew." From his branch, Zevran cursed.

_Damn, that was the only poison I had on me. Retreat and try again, Zev. _

He leapt down to the ground, only to land directly into the stew… It scalded his skin in several places and chunks got caught in his hair. Then the Mabari poked it's head thought the bushes. It turned out Drake was the only one who liked Alistair's cooking. Drake immediately growled and began chasing the Antivan. Zevran wasted no time and dived into the nearby river and swam for his life.

_Sorry but I'd rather not end up in the Mabari's stomach._

"Drake! Are you chasing a rabbit again?"

* * *

**Attempt 3:**

Zevran tied off the rope. He took a step back and admired his handy work. Over the doorway ,he'd managed to get a boulder suspended. The Crow knew the Wardens were scouting these ruins as somehow Drake had gotten 'lost' in there. Even now he could hear Tinalla calling for her Mabari. From the room opposite he could hear the dog barking. The poor thing was pining for his mistress.

_Sorry your mistress won't be round for long. Now this has to work! One of the Wardens comes in here, I cut the rope and the boulder squishes the poor warden._

Zevran's ears pricked up as footsteps neared, he was quick to drive behind some rubble, the dagger at the ready. The elf came hurtling in shortly followed by the two mages.

"Ah, so there's your mangy mutt. It seems he got himself locked in an old cell." Said Morrigan as Tinalla picked the lock. Then Alistair appeared in the door way, red in the face from running.

"He's not Mangy." He muttered, leaning against the doorframe.

_Come on, move forward. COME ON! Just one BLOODY step!_

To Zevran's relief the Warden took a step forward. The rope was immediately slashed and Zevran waited gleefully for the squish.

Except… it didn't come.

Peeking from his hiding place. Zevran saw, much to his dismay, that his trap was not working. The Maker , it seemed, had decided to imbue the boulder with the power to defy gravity. Then he saw someone sneaking up on Alistair, Dagger raised to slice the man's throat. Zevran recognised the assassin. It was Marco, a fellow Crow.

That's around when things went wrong. Alistair began walking over to the women and the rope began to creak. Cringing, Zevran averted his eyes.

An almighty crash resounded around the room, bringing the party of adventurers running over. Zevran glanced and saw some red leaking out from underneath the boulder.

"That was over the doorway? How the hell did we not notice it?" Exclaimed Tinalla.

"I think the more reasonable question is how did it not fall on the fool?"

_Aye, that is what I'm wondering. Damn you Maker. Why? Third time lucky that's all I was asking for!_

"Hey!" Came an indignant squawk. Tinalla nudged a hand sticking out with the tip of her boot. Then Drake came over and licked the red liquid.

"Drake! BAD BOY! That is disgusting! Well I'd say from the garb, it was a bandit or an assassin, proberly about to slit your throat Alistair."

"Oh my. How fortunate we are that it landed on him instead of Alistair or both of them." Said Morrigan, feigning worry. Alistair's eyes narrowed to slits.

"How fortunate that it didn't fall on you either." Came a cold retort.

"Oi! Behave kids!" Ordered Tinalla, edging her way around the boulder and into the corridor. The others followed, allowing Zevran to emerge from his hiding place. With a scream of rage he kicked the boulder. Then screamed even more loudly in pain as he hopped about clutching his foot.

_I HATE YOU! YOU SMARTASS OF A MAKER! BRASKA! SHIT! ARGH!_

* * *

**Who said Zevran was a good assassin? And we all know how his fourth attempt ended. This was just a funny idea that I had to get out of my head. **

**Trishata96**


End file.
